


Time Will Heal our Hearts

by PontiusHermes



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Credence Barebone-centric, Gen, Healing, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kindness, Pain, Prayer, Pre-Movie(s), Religion, Sad, non-romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8789059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PontiusHermes/pseuds/PontiusHermes
Summary: Pre-Movie Christmas fic. Credence on Christmas day. Implied abuse is nothing too confronting.Title taken from the song 'Grown Up Christmas List'.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Excerpt from 'Grown Up Christmas List' (the song from which the title is taken):
> 
> 'So here's my lifelong wish,  
> My grown-up Christmas list,  
> Not for myself, but for a world in need:
> 
> No more lives torn apart,  
> Then wars would never start,  
> And time would heal our hearts.  
> And every one would have a friend,  
> And right would always win,  
> And love would never end  
> This is my grown-up Christmas list.'
> 
> Please enjoy!  
> Hermes

The narrow church that served as the headquarters for the New Salem Philanthropic Society was silent on Christmas morning, like a goblet of still poison amongst chalices of wine. The tolling bells of surrounding churches soared to the sky, but on the inside of the Second Salemers’ church the music was muffled, hollow.

 

There was no tree in the narrow church, no joyful exchange of gifts. Credence knelt on the floor before his adoptive mother, his sisters by his side.

‘On this day of joy, when we give praise for the advent of Your son on Earth, we pray that You will deliver us from the evils of witchcraft,’ Mary Lou intoned. ‘We trust that You will guide and protect us in the dark time, and pray that You will open the eyes of those who remain ignorant of the threat posed by witches in our community. We pray that You will protect and nurture Modesty and Chastity, and help them to act in Your will.’ Credence knew that, if he were brave enough to look, a small, devout smile would be pressed against his adoptive mother’s lips. ‘We pray that You will grant Credence the obedience to carry out his duties properly and without fault, and the respect with which to treat his family.’ Her lips would be thinner now, severe. ‘We pray that You will bless him with an understanding of the proper conduct befitting him and his role in Your plan. _Amen._ ’

 

‘ _Amen,_ ’ Credence echoed. He awkwardly climbed back to his feet, wincing as he pressed his swollen hands into the floor to steady himself. He had gently washed his hands last night to take most of the dried blood off, and the skin on his palms was now inflamed and raw, marred by thin cuts.

 

‘Now,’ smiled Mary Lou, rounding on Credence, ‘We have a public gathering planned for this afternoon. Starts at two o’clock on the steps of the bank. See that you notify all of our supporters of the time and place.’

Credence shrank a little, ‘Yes, Ma.’ He fetched his hat.

Mary Lou smiled slightly. ‘Good. Don’t be late.’

 

The narrow church was cold, but the street was colder. The icy wind was funnelled between the buildings, and Credence had to hold his hat to keep it from blowing away. His other hand was shoved into his pocket in an attempt to retain some warmth. Not many people were on the street. Not on Christmas morning. A smartly dressed young man strode swiftly along the other side of the street, a small, neatly wrapped gift clutched in his hand, and a brown haired woman on the side of the footpath appeared to be searching for something in the inner pocket of her coat. The street was otherwise deserted. Most people were probably snuggled up in cosy apartments with their families or loved ones. Blazing fires, mince pies, a turkey, perhaps, or a ham.

 

A metallic clink sounded near his foot, and Credence looked down in alarm to see a small blue purse lying on the pavement. He realised that he had drawn alongside the woman with the coat; the purse seemed to have fallen from whatever pocket it usually inhabited as she struggled. Credence knelt and retrieved it, wincing slightly as he grasped it in his swollen hand. The woman’s mouth opened in horror, then relaxed into a smile of relief as his self-consciously proffered the article.

‘Thank you,’ she said warmly as she accepted the purse.

‘You’re welcome,’ Credence muttered, awkwardly withdrawing his hand. The woman’s quick brown eyes fixed briefly on his wounded palm and darkened with concern. Her mouth tightened, but she said nothing. Unsure of whether walking away would be rude, Credence waited, stooped and nervous. The woman simply smiled again.

‘Thank you very much. And merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas,’ he murmured, and continued on his way.

 

He’d only made it a few steps when his hands began to sting. He withdrew the hand from his pocket and scrutinised it, but the sensation was already fading. But something was different. The marks on his hands were softer and less painful, as if they’d been healing for days. The cuts were still angry and red, but closed and soothed, as if by some ointment of time. He wouldn’t tell his adoptive mother.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Comments are always appreciated. Hope you enjoyed it!  
> Hermes


End file.
